Paradise
by Starry's Light
Summary: I, most indubitably, am dead. And when I died I left behind a monsoon of unfixable problems. But I guess there's nothing I can do about them, since, you know, I'm dead. And I guess I'll have to live with that - well. I guess it's a little too late for me.
1. Island

**So this is a fiveshot about a dummy named Zoey who's even stupider than you thought cuz she died! For no other reason than because she sacrificed herself to stop someone else from getting killed! And you know who that someone else was? The selfish derp who'd fallen in love with her girlfriend!**

 **Basically that's all you need to know if you've never read my PMD series before**

 **So it's about Zoey and all of her dead friends and her angsty problems cuz angsty problems are a thing**

 **Zoey: you make me sound depressing**

 **Me: well maybe you are a little depressing**

 **Zoey: -whiny seventh grader voice-**

One: Island

That horrible squeaky squelching in my neck eventually went away, and with it the hot-burning pain. I'd call that a bit of a triumph, but since the reason I felt it in the first place was because I was slowly dying, this was the point of no return. I throw a fleeting glance back toward the heavy, black brokenness of the society I was leaving behind—didn't catch a glimpse of anything—and then it's gone.

So. I lift one of my paws. Stare at it. Mostly looks the same, though I guess there's a... quality to it I can't quite put into words. Surreal, kind of glowy white instead of its usual white fur. I stare intensely, wiggling each finger under tight scrutiny.

But it's not very interesting so I stop soon after. The world around me condenses with the humming of energy, and I go higher and higher as the world below me departs and the world ahead beckons. Higher, higher, higher—oh, no, I'm getting a little motion sick... oh... no...

Then for this awful split-second my eyes go down and it gets that much worse. My hands go on my mouth, but nothing comes out—and nothing tries to.

I sit there, wincing, crying very quietly, for a good bit of time, but nothing comes out, and nothing's trying to, and this feels horribly strange. I'm freaking out a little bit... My heart jumping in my chest, my mind counters with do-you-even-have-an-actual-heart-now and I actually can't handle the thought of not being alive anymore.

My whole self-sacrificing deed didn't really hit me until it was all over. My hands go over my head and I stay like that, sucking in shallow breaths that don't even supply me anymore. And I stay like that, panicking a little more than slightly, but only a little more, until I land— _pouufff—_ on soft, spongy ground that nearly envelops me.

A hand puts itself on my forehead. I struggle, standing, shaking my dark, sleek tail, messing with a headache that I'm trying to convince myself isn't there.

Looking up. Brown fur, warm face, blue eyes. Just as real—that head on my hand—as me, and as everything else I've known thus far. He was dead for a long, long time, and the fact that this timburr is standing in front of me now nearly causes me to break off into panic all over again. It's—It's hard for me to grasp.

"Heeeeey! Zoeeeyy!" Burr's fingers go off in front of him, and that tall dork pats my head. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? Well! Looks like you're here now, and I'm here now... and I mean, that's pretty raddio, yeah? Am I right or am I right?" His mouth is in this constant smile that only worsens with intensity as he speaks in his mellow voice.

A peachy yellow hand emerges, slapping him casually across the face. "Burr! She just died! Let her take it in, would you?" And attached to that hand is a peachy girl, her limbs a comforting shade of pink—like the blush on her face. The mienfoo grimaces, pulling her hand back, as her boyfriend rolls his eyes.

"Aww, come on, Mina, it's not that big a deal is i—"

" _Must_ I remind you which one of us was unable to stop _sobbing_ _pathetically_ when we were in her position?"

Burr's smile droops. He laughs awkwardly. "Hahaaaaa—Mina, you sly girl..." And then he can't look at her, his continued chuckling more resembling a wince.

His girlfriend nearly slaps him again, but her hand retracts before she makes mark. "I-It's fine—It's fine! You're fine, you big dummy!"

"I must admit that I am in claim of a rather fine bod—"

"I'm not talking about your body!"

"Yeah, but I am."

"Well _I'm_ not!"

Another slap happens as her grin, annoyed, twists and goes slightly toxic.

Meanwhile I'm still trying to react to the fact that two very dead friends are in front of me, remembering that I am now very dead too so it only makes sense, but yet it _doesn't_ , because I _died_ , and never before did I really think about it. The world literally beneath us is out of our reach... and the place of ceaseless chaos has lost its grip on me. Gone. Over. Why is that so hard to understand..?

So I look up, into the casual bickering of the mates I'd known since they were alive, and I think, for a moment, I'm going to finally lose it. I just suck in another breath that I also don't need and tug on one of their arms and plow against the side of the other and I have this really bad episode of dry-heaving like sobbing and puking but nothing is happening, and then I say something like, "Burrhhhhbbuhmnng."

Mina covers her lip, trying to hide her laughter.

Burr doesn't. He just tosses his head back and what happens is what happens, but the smile is bright and warm.

"How about a song, to accommodate your voyage, Zoey? Wouldn't that be fun?"

I blink. "But... but Burr"—I take a moment to adjust to my freakishly smooth voice, like my neck wasn't split open recently—"I thought you weren't good at singing?"

"Nuhhhhh! I've gotten betterrrrrrr! Now I'm like better than everyone else! Then again I already was better than everyone else but same thing!"

"Oh, you poor, poor boy!" his girlfriend cackles, "living inside of your head, thinking, oh, I've got such a sound and creamy tune in my head, and it's gonna come out _lovely_!" She stops for a moment. "But I must admit that you've gotten better. And it is, I _suppose_ , enjoyable to listen to. _Sometimes_."

Burr moans. "Awww! Man, I've got both of you onto me! C'mon, Zoey, I wasn't _that_ bad, was I? Come onnnnnnnnnnn!"

The way he exaggerates his words nabs a laugh out of his girlfriend, to which, for triumph, he plucks her head into his hands and pulls her into a kiss. To which, later, she emerges giggling softly. I guess it's kind of weird that I'm casually watching my friends kiss but I mean it's also not weird, at least I think it's also not weird, and besides, knowing that even death did not do them apart is nice.

Pulling back from his girlfriend, then patting her head, Burr's clear-sky eyes size me up again. "Huh. Oh, right... we should probably let the others know that she's here. I think Emby had a few things to say to her... hah! I wonder what!"

"Ahhh, _Emby_. You know he hates it when we call him that, right? Why do we keep it up anyways?"

"Because, my darling Mina, because he hates it!" They're both giggling, so I'm gonna presume that he doesn't hate-to-kill hate it, although I recall... I recall... oh—oh that's right... I came up with that freakin' awful nickname for him back when I was alive... and when I pinned it on him, man, he cursed. Like a wingull. It was real violent. Hilarious, but real violent. I mean I knew he wasn't gonna do anything... but man.

I've missed Ember. Heh. The thought is weird to think about. When Mina and Burr ask me, I go off on nodding, and Burr acts sad because that means he's not gonna sing until later, but we all know he's not actually sad.

Our little trio crosses the cloudy plains, beneath the strangely luminescent sky full of crazy pinkish colors, and then further off into a little secluded area with what I think amounts for cloud-bungalows, nestled betwixt air and heavens. No wait, this _is_ the heavens, never mind.

There's a tidy square in the midst of it, made up by a big cloud-formed fountain that actually spurts actual water. A few familiar—and even some unfamiliar—faces traverse this little area, and I'm gonna take a gander that the familiar ones I don't see are nearby. It hurts my head to look and acknowledge, or at least try to acknowledge this, but then there's Burr and Mina, a hand apiece on my shoulders, and I really want to believe it.

At the same time this awful part of me wishes against this... I mean, of course, right? I'm literally _dead_. It's... peaceful and everything but _I'm literally dead_. And... that means... no more of _her_. I loved her—I... honestly I still love her. She meant more than everything to me and thinking about her got to the point where it felt like every thought placed a blade in my hands, then the blade in my chest, because I really, really loved her back then.

And she wasn't dead. She was down there, with the stupid boy I'd killed myself to save. I ran into his little predicament, and it gave him a chance to kill the monster that very nearly killed him, and then I was gone not long after. I can't freaking remember what I did before I died, after the slash came down on me. I was bleeding. A lot. I remember that.

No more of her.

That thought's harder to believe than no more life.

Mina's magenta orbs watch me with concern, a little smile on her lips.

"Well, Zoey. Here it is. I think Gaurdio was already making a new little bungalow for you to live in... the clouds are surprisingly easy to construct into very strong pieces. Of course it's easy to break them too—if you put your mind to it—which is nice. It's like... living in a sandbox."

I blink, kind of smiling. "So anyways, bungalows," I observe.

"So bungalows!" agrees Burr, "indeed!"

Mina rolls her eyes. "Yes, bungalows, hooraaaaaay. So... if you'd like to go look around and meet... er, re-meet everyone, you can go do that. I think we should leave you to it."

Burr's voice hovers above my head.

"Whaaaat? We're gonna leaaaaave?"

"Burr she needs time to adjust and I'm sorry but our being around really isn't going to help her but especially—"

" _Especially_?"

"You, dimwit. She needs some time to herself right now... c'mon..."

Burr mumbles some complaints, but I think some part of him's absorbed whatever it was his girlfriend was getting at, because the two of them offer me little hugs and then, smiling sadly, go off. And I'm left to my own appliances. Since I'm guessing everyone knows about my death and all, it shouldn't be too hard to find who I'm looking for, so that's alright.

I first stop by Gaurdio—this big, beefy, curly-haired gurdurr dude, who is in fact plowing into the clouds like no tomorrow—though I guess, _heck_ , there _is_ no tomorrow cuz we're all dead—and he shows off some form of welcoming, though he was always a little more into hard work and effort than other pokemon. But it's nice, seeing him again. He died after Mina and Burr, who grew up kind of like children under him, so I'm sure it made him happy to see them again.

Turning off, I quickly plow into the hothead himself. His freakishly pink—psychic—eyes light up with a bit of anger as he rubs his head, and the pansear eventually sucks in a breath that he also doesn't need. "Zoey. I'll be damned."

"Heeeey..." I look off, blushing. "Hey, Ember... Emby... heh..."

He just shakes his head, smirking a bit. "Honestly, I didn't think you were going to do it until you did. Shame too. He probably deserved to die."

Burr and Mina hadn't mentioned a bit of _him_ —the big, stupid derp I saved who by now may as well be with... _her_. I don't know what to think about that so I kind of try not to think of it.

He was close with Burr—like siblings close—and thus close to Mina and Gaurdio—she like a sibling and he a parent to _him_ respectively.

"Welp," I mumble, in this exaggerated cheer, "the butthead lives on!"

He snorts. "Oh well... life is... a bitch, I guess. That's alright." He sort of deflates.

"Yeah..." I deflate with him.

We share this strange sort of understanding for a little while, when I finally leave and turn off into the fountain again. What comes into vision takes me a moment to divulge—everything does... but this a little longer, I think. Time—if there was still time—constraints around me as I halt, staring.

Sitting by its rim, one hand twirling in the water, there sits he. He's been dead the longest of... basically all of us. He died first—he was that monster's first victim. Before _he_ got worse. Before _he_ got better, too, far before then. His dark ears and yellowy face, annoyingly soft and idle, they just sway with his sitting on the fountain edge, and he just kind of smiles in his spot.

I pull in another unnecessary breath and step forward, determined to meet up with that stupid emolga, determined to ask him a few embarrassing and awkward questions. So here I come... and here I go...

Elijah.

 **Man, what's Elijah's story? He's probably got all the good dirt since he wasn't even in the PMD series for most of it since he was dead for the last two books**

 **like the next people who died had a whole two of the three cuz they died at the end of the second**

 **poor eli**

 **poor eli**

 **Zoey: so anyways bungalows**

 **Burr: bungalooowwwwssssssssss**


	2. Oasis

**Burr: anyways bungalows**

 **Zoey: I think we're past that**

 **Mina: yes I think we're past that too**

 **Burr: you're borriiinggg**

 **Zoey: can I just talk to Elijah already**

 **Burr: booRRRIIINNNNGNNg**

 **Zoey: TTwTT**

 **Mina: Burr shut up -slaps his arm-**

 **Burr: buhhhh**

 **For Reference:  
** _Her_ **refers to Zoey's girlfriend who didn't die like Zoey did  
** _The monster_ **and** _him_ **refer to the guy Zoey died to save, who killed Elijah as well as a bunch of other people but eventually got over himself, became a better person, and fell in love with Zoey's girlfriend while at it basically**

Two: Oasis

And there I am. Standing on clouds, making my way toward that fountain, my feet feeling like they're slipping through holes that aren't there. If clouds are so movable then can't, with enough digging, I end up back... down there? But I guess that would mess a lot of things up, I mean my girlfriend's pretty much lost to me by now.

Laughing awkwardly, I swallow and go on. Elijah's noticed me, but he's pretending he didn't because extended eye contact can get really gauche really fast, and then you're just staring at each other but I'm walking at such a pace and I'm still faraway enough that to try and greet me would be either a yell or misheard.

So by the time I reach the fountain and plop myself beside him, smiling weakly, the emolga's had a lot of thought in what to say to me. "So Zoey. I guess you've decided to join us now." A disapproving lip has slightly curled.

"Uhhh, h-hiii, Elijah..." I mumble. Okay I'm sorry, I just got here, how in the heck is that enough time to tick you off? What, did I do something _disagreeing_ with you when I was still alive? Did you just happen to catch me at a wrong moment?

Oh. Then I remember.

 _She_ was my friend when we met.  
And he was her first love interest. Before me. Before anything else, it was Elijah.

My face reddens as I nod it off toward the ground. "Ummm... sh-should I apologize? Did I... like... disgrace your honor or... or something? Um... I-I'm sorry..."

Oh, gosh, this is getting really gauche really fast.

Maybe I should get up and leave. Yeah. He was the first one and I came after—he doesn't look down on me, does he? Am I some useless plaything to pass the time with? Am I—Am I—Am I—

"Ah—sorry. You don't... need to apologize. I mean... she was pretty happy, being around you. And that's... a good thing. Plus, I was dead. It was over for me the moment I was killed... heh. It's—that's not what I was trying to—I—sorry."

Now we're both staring at the ground. A fog of embarrassment weighs heavy on me. Darn, this was a bad idea. Turning, I manage to lift my head and look over at Elijah, and I tell him, "How do you do it? I-I mean you've been gone the longest... h-how do you manage with all of it?"

"Well. I'll be honest, at first I just kind of looked for as many loopholes in this whole situation as I could manage. And I did a lot of this-sucks and everything-sucks and... I guess I was just... sad. Hahaah... That's pathetic, I _know_... but it's how it was until I learned how to be at peace with it." He shrugs, wiping at his lip a little bit.

I blink. Wow. I mean—yeah—I guess it makes sense. He was the first one. He was the only one for a good while who knew that there was a monster among us... a monster who was planning, if he got his way, to kill every last one of us except for _her_. Heh—right? Doesn't that sound like the story out of a frantic creator's mind?

He killed Mina... and he killed Burr. And he killed Elijah, and he killed Elijah's family. I guess in a way he killed me too. The others were lost by the overreaching extent of his actions, but they weren't actually killed by _him_.

Deep breath. Swallow. I don't like thinking about that. It's... ugly. Our past is so... so... ugly.

Because I'm not good at thinking on the spot, I shove Elijah with my shoulder and send him into the fountain's water. _KER-PLOOOOOOOOOSH!_

He cries out, head plopping in and out of shallow waves. "Eeww! Maaan, Zoey! You can't stay serious for a _second_ , can you?!" Elijah's big ears flick at the water, but it comes off in sparkles instead of droplets. Watching, transfixed, I dip my own hand in the water and watch as my fingers swirl round in liquid that I can't feel.

My chest slams together. It's hard to breathe. I suck in a few breaths and shove my paw into my forehead and try really, really hard to breathe, but my palm is warm and dry, and that makes it harder.

"Um... Zoey! Hey... Zoey, are you—uhhh..." He draws off, watching as I shake my head in recession. A few steps back, a few more forward, and I trip over the edge of the fountain, slipping into its wake.

Null and void, null and void. I don't even need to breathe anymore—finally the thought resurfaces—so there I am, sucking water into my mouth that bounces right off of me. A blanket of blue has fallen upon me, and the weight is insufferable. When I toss my head out of the water, Elijah's watching, his big, dark eyes afraid.

And it's not even that that kills me. It's the fear over me, fear _for_ me, that causes me to shake.

"I'm not crying," I mutter.

He shakes his head, as if from a dream. "No. Of course not. That's the water on your face."

"E-Exactly."

My voice does this awful pule-screech thing that I decide to leave alone and instead get the heck away from Elijah and the heck out of that fountain. He emerges, slowly, eyes following my stupid, jerky, every move, and I have no idea when he finally looks away because I turn first, and I move off in a bit of a huff, wiping at my eyes.

Oh no. Water can't stain you but _tears_ still exist. Or maybe it's sparkles, dribbling from my face; or maybe it's the way I heaved as I shifted inside of that stupid fountain, my hiccups, my sobs obvious. I-I hate this.

My lips form into a frown as I stalk off and away. Hiccuping, I step off and wipe at my face again, thinking, or trying, about who it was I had left. There's still a few of my friends I have yet to encounter. Thankfully, just off from one of the bungalows, one of them spots me and quickly sprints over. A creature I can't begin to recognize chases after her, but whatever, he's not the one I'm looking for.

The victini stops in front of me. Her eyes, big skies, are welcoming, and her warm creamy fur meets my blue-and-white as she stuffs me into a hug, her big velvety ears lighting up like fireworks.

"Zoeeyyyyyy! Oh my gawwwsh, it's been, like, aaaaages! Yeaaahaaahh, maaan, I never thought you were gonna do the thing until you heckin' did, gurrrl! You show them! Yehaaa, you show 'em, you show 'em who's boss!" Her name is F, and she is probably the greatest combination of only the most top-tier of goals incarnate.

Basically both an inspiration and a role model and a real, existing creature all in one breath.

Well. She _was_ real.  
We didn't know legends could actually die until she did. I struggle to remember the occurrences around what exactly became of her, but it's hard to live in the past when she's right up in my face, so in the end I don't worry about it. All excited and feisty, she yanks the creature behind her toward me, scoots him closer. "Zoey, meet my also dead boyfriend! I knew him in reality and junk but he had to go and get himself killed, but, like, I'm dead too, so whatever." She scoots him nearer, muttering, "Intro _duce_ yourself..."

"Yeah so anyways, I'm _E_ , that's _F_ ," he goes on, batting a stray hand in the—wait that's not a hand. His body, a glimmering orange, in fact is smaller than F's, and mine for that matter, and he has these strange, bluish purple eyes, and these strange electromagnetic hands also very bluish and very much not hands.

I decide not to offer shaking said hand in fear of shocking myself... well, then again, I doubt I'd feel that, too... ahhh, this is too much for me...

F and I go through idle chitchat about being dead and how weird it is while her boyfriend prattles on about how oh, you think your poor Eli was the first—well he lied, I've been gone longer. Though I'd rather not, my curiosity gets the best of me and I ask him how that's like, being dead for a long time, and he mentions that he's not sure, he thinks... he thinks that one day, maybe he won't be in this afterlife any longer, and we'll all pass away into an intermingling eternity... or something, I'll have to get back on him about that.

I decide that E is worthy of my attention, but not for as long as I would've liked—because man, _this guy—_ as another creature works his way up toward me, his dark fur and green hood about his head making the chespin's identity obvious. Those amber eyes watch me a little nervously before I toss myself into him next.

"Ahhh! Roland—how are—how is—aahhhhhh! It's youuuuuuuuu!"

He makes awkward noises as I cling to him, eventually managing, "Yehh, uh, 's me, yeh? 'How is', y'say? Euhhh, I'm alright. I saw that my li'l bro found his way to all of y'all, so that's good."

Then I pause, eyes glassy. I take in a breath that I don't need, because, that's right. Roland died trying to save his younger brother. He eventually found the lot of us, and I guess in the end he was safe... but it wasn't something his big brother got to do, yet he died from it anyways, never got to see him again. It's... ugh. Shaking my head, I pretend that this hasn't hurt me at all and I'm completely functional.

"Yee-Yeaaaaaahaha... tha-that's great.. I-I-It's great to see you again."

Oh curse me. I couldn't fake a thing to save my life—oh, that I already lost. Haaaaah... Shaking my head, smiling weakly, I pat Roland's soft, fuzzy shoulder and go on from the rest of them. I can hear them muttering something involving my name, but I don't focus very well on it, and soon enough the voices disperse.

It's not far off from the bungalows that I find the last of those who have died over us. A froslass, her snowy white body turned around her, dark purple hue tilted over her head, as if in scheming. She used to have a ribbon—though I don't even know if it would pass over with her—but even so, she gave the ribbon to one of our friends before said passing.

Awkwardly I sit by her, trying to draw attention by waving in her face.

"Heeeeeey. Ummm... Frigid Outsprriiiiing... it's, uh, it's been a little while, huh? Well. I guess not that much of a while... you didn't die that long before me, di-did you? Hahaha..." I continue laughing at my own joke as it becomes more and more obvious that she isn't going to join me.

I should've seen that coming. Oh, geez, I should've seen that coming.

She mutters, her face in a grimace, "Damn, Zoey. You can _stop_ now," shaking her head.

"Heey. Um... did you get to see your family again now that you've died?"

Another lull. She takes her time talking. I don't think it's because it's hard to speak, or she's not sure how to say it. She just likes to wait. Finally muttering in that frosty tone, "Ah, no, I didn't. It's fine, though, I didn't really expect to be so lucky as that emolga... thing... you're all friends with. Although... damn. I didn't know you had so many little friends of yours dead before you even met me."

That's right. We found Frigid Outspring after a lot of things had already happened. She didn't understand how the monster was trying to kill everyone for oh, so long until he finally gave into the pleas of my girlfriend and instead decided to get... better. For her. Swallowing, I nod toward her. She never met Roland, or Mina, Burr, Gaurdio, or Elijah, most especially: that is, not until she died.

"You're a lot stronger than I thought you were. I looked at this lot of fluff-brained ditzes when I first met you and I thought, shit, that's a lost cause if I've ever seen one."

Slowly shaking her head, a titter on her lips.

"Anyways." She gets up, pulling a hand toward me. "Hey Zoey. You wanna see something fucked up? It's gonna blow your brain open but I bet you totally wanna see it."

I watch her with big, awkward eyes.

Then I shrug, taking her hand, lifting up. "Eeeh, why not. I got nothin' better to do, yeaaah?"

"You seriously need to stop." A smirk replaces the grimace, her eyes rolling in her head. "You're not gonna make me laugh, Zoey. You actually aren't, I promise you."

Quietly I decide to try her. And with my frigid friend, we go on to find the thing that'll blow my brain open.

 **I guess it's kind of a cliffhanger but whateverrrr I thought it was a good place to ennndddd**

 **Oh if anyone's wondering why the heck I don't just tell you the names of the characters who Zoey loved and Zoey died for, I like the kind of symbol you get from being detached about past lives. Like I talk about their past lives, but the only actual names and things-going-on mentioned fully and concrete come from The Afterlife or whatever it's called... heheh.**

 **E: man I wasn't in the other stories this is kind of cool**

 **F: alright alriiiiiight -finger guns-**

 **E: eyooooo**


	3. Palm Tree

**Zoey: that cliffhanger though**

 **Me: okay okay so it was kind of awkward but I wasn't sure how else to go with it**

 **Frigid Outspring: I don't really care all that much**

 **Zoey: yeah but that cliffhanger though**

 **Frigid Outspring: you actually don't listen**

 **Zoey: -pouty seventh grader voice-**

 **Frigid Outspring: … -winces- stop please.**

Three: Palm Tree

She and I waddle back up toward the bungalows again, looping back around into the midst of the clearing. The light trickles from all over the place and illuminates just about everything. I don't think there's... much of a shadow here, now is there? Mmh. _He_ was a shadow... but I doubt he would be allowed here. Be-Besides... he has my girlfriend in his hand... and he's... happy, or whatever.

Elijah acted as if he's seen what discourse went down back when I was alive and the monster hadn't yet reached his epiphany. So maybe I'll figure it out too. But I don't know if I'll be able to handle looking at it.

Ugh, these thoughts. I fiercely shake my head, moving on—or, well, trying to. I don't get very far. Frigid Outspring, her dark and liquid orbs moving, pauses as she goes on in her perceptions about the crazy little oshawott beside her. When asked, she shrugs, says, "Peculiar," and that's about it.

I get the feeling that she's just as obtuse as she was when she lived. That's a bit of a rut to get around, but I guess it cuts out her character: and if she wants to be obtuse, then hey, why can't she? Somehow I get the feeling that in this place, nobody could hurt her for her opposition. Mina's gentle hits, the water that can't touch me... there is no pain.

My hand comes out. I stare at it for a moment, turning it beneath my eyes.

No, that's not true. There is pain.

"Zoey, can you not focus?"

Then I shrug, and enunciate, "Pecuuuuuuuliaaaar," with as much of a voice crack as I can muster.

Something in me must have come out as weird to her, because she watches, staring, for a while, before moving on slowly to a start. The eyes never quite leave me, those piercing liquid eyes, and I can feel them imprinted within me like a label. There is something in her eyes that clashes with the pastel background, clashes with the soft soul of the entity in front of me, a black and concrete hardness that lands hard on top of me.

"Zoey, you know what's funny?" Quietly. Simpering.

"Buh?"

"What's funny is escape, because I don't know if it's really real. Your fate sort of has you by the ass, and oh, don't even think about losing its grip on you... there is fate and there is life and it is all blowing full-on ahead, and you are with it for the ride.

Pause. Shake of the head. "And it's funny."

I kind of stare at her.

"I... I don't know about _thaaaaat_ , Frigiii." She grimaces at the nickname but otherwise there's not a shift upon her. "That's preeeetty heavy, yuh-huhhhh?" Cough. "Pre-tty heavy... yuh-huhh... And, uh"—cough—"I-I dunno bout all that. Well. Ooookay. Maybe life is kindsa hard, and those kindsa hard things get chucked at you a lot and that sucks, but... I-I dunno, it's not worthless."

She will never notice how nervous that made me. Oh—no—no, never.

The grin that greets her lips is so nearly imperceptible that I only notice it when she turns and laughs at me, at the idiot little girl who's eons behind.

She pauses once more. Whispers, "Yes, of course, but only," before moving on. I follow in a wake of her numbing thoughts.

Honestly, Frigid Outspring's always been a little out there. I mean the majority of her entire life was dead by the time we met her, alongside I don't know how many friends. We did meet a mere handful of the handful still living in her past, but they were pretty out there too, and I don't think they could stop themselves from mentioning death in their every other word. Plus, she was lonely for awhile. But... I-I don't like thinking about that, so I'm gonna try not to again.

Lifting her silvery-white hand, she picks off one of the nearby bungalows, while, taking my hand, making me the child that follows behind her, we set toward it. Our feet make funny _fump_ sounds in the clouds, which makes me laugh, which makes Frigi nearly but not criticize my youth.

She pulls off and pokes her head through the opening, just above the ground as if atop the stump of a tree. "Magolite I swear if you are not here! C-Come on, dammit! I have something important to show—ohh, _now_ you talk, when I tell you that—well fuck you too! This is _important_!"

A very long chain of curse words dipped in churning disgust.

"Magolite. I don't care that you hate society, this kid probably needs to see this and I swear if you don't I will actually—auhhh, shut _up—_ I don't know, I'll do _something_."

Something about heaven being the place where we don't fight each other. More cursing. I try to ignore that part because it's a little discontenting.

"I am _not_ spoiling innocence! She's been through enough and if she doesn't see this well—okay—great— _thanks_.

She turns toward me, the little vein in her forehead much larger than the eyebrow it intersects. "Anyways. He's a bit of a bitch, but that's alright. I think you need to see this, so whatever, he can bitch to himself later."

I stare, slowly nodding. My stomach hurts.

And so we enter. Frigid Outspring has her hand strong around mine, and she squeezes it every couple strides. Her eyes, big and glassy, glance back at me as we come. I lose count how many times.

Then we turn—and there it is—Magolite. I'm not sure what to think at first, at this heavenly mess of a body, all strung together in such ways that suggest it took a lot of hard work on someone's part to put the pieces back together after whatever it was he went through in life. Purple, lots of purple scales, ears folded over his asymmetrical head, her big, bulbous eyes heavy-lidded like he's constantly drained.

A-And maybe he is. I wouldn't know.

When the voice, low and obsolete, summons itself from the back of the throat, it hits me that nidorino here is one very, very ungrateful man. My cheeks inflame as he booms:

"ThiiIIIIIIis giiiIIIIIrl! WhhOOOoo IIIIis thiiIIIiiis!"

Frigid Outspring slips on a mask of annoyance. I get the feeling this isn't her first time. "Magolite, this is a friend. She—er—like me—was alive during this last generation, but unlike me she didn't see the time before it, or meet the veterans of the past... er, like you I guess." She flaps her hand around his bulbous head like she'd rather not think about the exact similarity.

Coughing, clearing of the throat. Something like snot is scraping the back of his throat, esophagus churning. "HooooOO! You then, girl! You cannot beeeeEEEEEEEGIIiiiiin to comprehend the time beeeEEEEfore yoooOUUUuuu!" Cough, cough. I watch as he loudly swallows. "ThhhIIIis body"—one big, stubby paw into himself—"has undergone coooUUUUuuuntless changes and coouUUunntless worlds!"

Watching me slowly, eyes submissive, Frigid Outspring folds her lips together, her light skin sharpening with the sound of the words.

She tells me, gently, "Zoey, this is the past. Magolite saw another monster that was before the monster you know today. And he saw a creature that was very like your girlfriend... but was very unlike her, far beyond her, as well."

The chain of curse words begins to unravel in my head.

Elijah wasn't the first. I wasn't the first. Frigid Outspring wasn't the first to watch, silently, as everyone and everything that ever meant even a speck of feeling to her was crushed beneath the massive thumb of a chaos unyielding.

There is a world outside of my tiny, fluff-brained head, and it just collapsed.

I try to take this in. Calmly, slowly. In, out, in, out, in...

So I look at Frigid Outspring, and, pleading, I whisper, "Is he going to kill her? Is he going to kill her—is—is it all going to become... to become..."

I thrust my palm into the face of the misshapen Magolite whose soul was slowly and excruciatingly melding with something long ago. As his age ended, and ours became anew... his time, and his end, would be met.

Watching us, giggling like a child Magolite is nodding. "Oh, I don't know about thaaAAahaat. It's a bloodbath, that it fuckin' is. That's life for ya. It's like me"—a shameless wave upon his body—"only worse. Cahaha! Dat scary, uh? Scary, scary! Ain't neeeEEEwbody safe!"

The breathing comes back, raspy and quick and completely unnecessary but if this is all it is, if this is all life is, another castle waiting to crash into the earth, again again again again—then let me live. Let me—Let me...

"But she's..." My voice is soft. "But she didn't do that. She... she fell in..." Oh, I hate this. "In—In _love_ with this monster, and he... he-he loves her, and they're _different_ , a-a-alright?"

Their eyes fall upon me, and they are sad eyes. Frigi's outlined in a world of sabotage, Magolite's big and bulbous softening with the strange touch of sympathy.

"I just want to protect you from that, Zoey," she tells me, gently, "I just want you to be ready in case it doesn't work out like the fairy tale you want it to be—"

"S-S-SSSTOP IT."

I must be a child, I really sound like a child. I'm shaking, I'm shaking. But I... th-they don't get it. I-I watched as he lifted that hand full of claws and hid it away from others in the attempt to keep their lives safe. I watched him—I remember—I watched him gently play with the figures he considered his siblings for a long time. I watched him as that big, soft, dark face came down upon me, and I watched him as he watched me die and I remember him yelling at me that I was an idiot for killing myself over _him_.

No. Oh, no. My fingers slam into a fist beside me. No, there is pain.

And I... I didn't want it. I didn't want that ending to be the one that we were all stuck with. I- _I_ wanted her. I'm thinking about this, shaking. I did. I put her so high above me because of her talent and that power and the light that shone from her fingers and how everyone melted beneath her, and I was just another stepping-stone in her path. And _he_ wasn't, _they_ were equals, and I see now that I did that subconsciously, I just... screwed myself over, now didn't I?

Smiling awfully.

I guess she just wanted to help me. Frigi. Because, you know, she's right: there is pain.

My voice arouses from somewhere inside of me. "I-I'm fine, I'll be fine, do-don't worry about me."

Then I burst out the opening and I stay there, breathless, in the midst of the bungalows and I'm not quite sure where.

I can apologize later. We're dead. We're not... going anywhere. It's _safe..._

But I do spy a certain fire-furred creature. The pansear is speaking with a very certain timburr who is attempting to sing for him, and, admittedly, is singing rather sweetly. And I think I'd like to go over there for just a little while, so I sort of flop over in that direction. Ember doesn't yell at me when I use his nickname and Burr just keeps going, on and on, his voice his fuel, this world his light.

Ember asks me, those pink eyes gleaming, "What sort of wreck did you get yourself into this time?"

I shrug halfheartedly. He's seen me through enough. He's seen me through a lot, really. Kindly the pansear nods and grins, but only slightly, but still very gently, and it's a little more comforting.

S-So what if they try to sink my image? D-Don't they know how hard it is to manage? How sometimes all I want to do is... curl up... and... cry?

Sh-Shut up. I'm scared. A-A little bit...

I raise my hand and I flex my fingers, and I sigh.

 **A bit more conflict revolving around Zoey's insecurities and the personality clashes of everyone else! What's cool about the afterlife is that you can't "die" like twice (I'm just speculating but if there is an afterlife I'm gonna presume that you can't die twice but maybe you can) and while people are different kinds of people with different kinds of personalities you can't, say, kill another person**

 **You just... figure it out?**

 **Ember: -shrugs- Like I'd know.**

 **Frigid Outspring: -awkwardly changes the topic- why are there only three characters who curse consistently?**

 **Ember: I don't know**

 **Me: there just kind of are**

 **Anyways Magolite! I came up with him on the spot because I knew that this needed to be addressed!**

 **Poor Magolite**


	4. Exotic

**Elijah: I get the feeling that the only time in this story I ever get a key moment is when I'm dead...**

 **Me: it happens sometimes**

 **Elijah: It's uncomfortable**

 **Zoey: yeah you know we both died to move on the plot isn't that just sad—**

 **Me: ooOKAY THEN**

Four: Exotic

My feet swinging, whoosh, over the edge I sit upon. The ground is soft. It's always soft. Kind of hurts my head, thinking about it, how... _gentle_ it is here. Well I guess it's not completely infallible, I mean, _Magolite_ , but... I-I like that.

Head hanging low over the horizon. Nodding slowly.

 _Fump, fump, fump, fump. Pouf_!

My head snaps sideways into the big, dark eyes of a certain emolga and I swear for a moment there he surprises me so badly I nearly fall off the edge.

Wheezing, I squeak, "Elijah! C-Can you _tell_ me the next time y-you wanna just pop outta nowhere and stuff yourself into my face! Li-Like what the heck! I-I-I-I... I..." I pull my head sidelong, away from him, blushing, mumbling to myself about something that has to do with how _dumb_ he is and _stuff_.

Honestly... I can't remember much about Elijah. From when he was alive. He loved her first, before any of us. He got it worst cuz he got killed first because of it. They were sweet... he made her laugh a lot, and he embarrassed her a lot too... and they were so, so sweet. If nothing else, I do recall that he was a bit of a thorny rebel at first glance, but I guess it's just a slight barrier that built up as he grew older, and it was an easy one to pass, too.

Oh, n-never mind... I remember more than I thought I did...

He's nice. I guess. But e-everyone's nice, in some way.

"Heh, sorry. You don't need to worry about it too much though." His little white fingers spread out over the horizon in front of us. "It'd be pretty hard to fall off here." Patting his hand on that last bit of cloud before it wears off into foggy oblivion ahead.

I watch with gigantic blue eyes. "I could actually jump off right now though."

"No... not—not really, y'see..." His hands reach out, as if searching for the assurance of emphasis. "It's like... you can't... break off, I guess, from this plane. I think eventually it all goes away, or something, I'm not sure, but... you can't... lose yourself, here. Unless you were gone from the start, you'd go to... you know..." Waves a hand downward. "But that's something else."

His eyes, dark and unwavering, flutter with his fingers. The focus is cool and weighted, and his voice is a strong kind of smooth, one that hints at how much is lying inside of him. There's a way about the eyes, calm and strong and admitting to something far beyond us, far beyond our feeble souls, a way that is gentle and accepting.

A river—no, not a river... I close my eyes, leaning back and forth in place. He's the stone in the river, the reliable stepping-stone you can always count on. It's in the midst of the waves. And it's sturdy where it lies, but it understands that one day it will be worn down to naught but a shell of its former worth. But that won't be today, because it's holding you today.

Suddenly this thought feels real, very, very real.

"Hey uh... Zoey? You don't need to check that theory."

"Buhh!" My cry nabs a laugh out of him, a bursting chuckle he slaps out with a hand to his lips. "I-I'm awake! I'm not dead! Actually wait I am dead! Gahhhh!"

Soft, soft laughter. The shaking of a head. Asking, "Zoey, what are you?"

He's watching me with humorous eyes. A bright mirth. Dead, dead, just like me, that sound warmth and special joy, dead, dead, dead. Magolite comes to mind, his bulbous face swirling in my head.

I look away. "Um... Elijah?" Shyly.

There's a bit of indention between his eyes. "Yes?"

"You didn't... deserve to die." I'm not looking. It'd be hard to look after saying that to his face. "It's no fair."

The mellow face pulls back. "What do you..." Pause. His voice is soft. "Well, it's fine."

He doesn't get it. Not much of a deep thinker... is he?

Those big, dark, warm eyes. The monster who took it all away in a handful comes to mind, and so does the prize he took with him, and the thing that was tossed away like his trash. They were so sweet... Elijah was happy, he had friends, like me, like _her_ , like all kinds of friends, and he had all kinds of reasons to keep going. To keep smiling. And I think about Magolite, and what he told me about how much it doesn't even matter in the end.

I never... liked boys... all that much. They were fun... to tease. She and I talked. We talked about all kinds of things. Special moments lined our relationship, all kinds of pieces most would've forgotten. But she didn't. She held them with me. But didn't she do that about most everything? And then she broke open, because of it, because she wanted to hold things that were gone. I- _I_ wasn't gone...

"Hey, uh... I guess I keep showing up at the wrong times. Are you alright?"

He's blunt. I smirk behind a hand clasped over my mouth.

And I sigh.

Pulling my hands out in front of me, I ask him, "Why do you keep... searching me out? It's kinda weird.. I-I mean I never really knew you other than the connection we had between..."

"Heh... You're funny, you like making others laugh for simple reasons. I like that. But, I mean, you just died... so it's hard and... I don't know. I guess I kind of want to thank you for making her laugh when you did. Because I think that helped her."

I watch him. Those big, dark eyes. Gentle, accepting.

"I ah... I guess it makes sense that I'd be mad about dying... like you said. And for awhile I think I was. But... you made her happy, and you made others happy too... and that was good."

 _Pofff... pff—fmmp_!

Standing, teetering, I step back. Elijah's smiling face into the midst of the decaying fogs snaps back toward me. The big eyes shadow; he slowly lifts too, steps closer. He's taller than me; my head ends near where his chin starts. I think he can tell where I'm looking so I take another step back, glaring at the clouds.

It's stupid. All throughout that time he so happily labeled I was at a loss with myself. Any jokes made weren't meant to be made. I was hurting, hurting myself, hurting anything that got within reach, and every time I thought of her it was like another knife that I placed myself into my chest. The monster decided to try and change and then he took her out of my life, so carefully cut his way around me, and that was that.

And all over again, there I am, shaking. Head in hands, shaking, stupidly. Little rocks hit me as the thoughts come and go, how it doesn't even matter, anyways, as the cycle will squeeze and pull, another Magolite, another Frigid Outspring will come... another _Zoey_ will be next. Elijah will die, again and again, playing his role for the amused little rulers of our sad world, and then so will everyone else who risked and lost everything for the sake of a hope that won't even come true, and I'm shaking awfully, and I feel stupid.

Slowly lifting my head. Elijah hasn't stopped. Head tilted, concern pinching his forehead. "Hey—"

"It's over." I whisper through my words, slog through the streets of sounds and screeching worthlessness that tries to string into something. "All over. Isn't it? Won't change. Not a piece of it." Deep breath. "And what tells you I don't belong down there! Might as well take me now! There is no meaning! None! Is there! Is... there..!" Coughing, softly, hands held deep into me.

"Hey, ah—"

"I WANTED TO BE MORE THAN HER GIRLFRIEND! I WANTED TO BE EVERYTHING! I WANTED SO MANY THINGS, BUT THAT'S ALL THEY WERE! WANTS!"

"Zo—"

"AND MY WANTS DON'T MATTER! NNNO, NOT AT ALL! I DON'T MATTER BECAUSE NOTHING DOES, NOTHING IS WORTH IT! WORTH WHAT? NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHI—"

"ZO-ZOEY! S-STOP THAT."

I can't focus until his hand's on my face. My breath goes into it, his palm, his fingers. My stupid, worthless breath, the breath that I don't even use.

Once my attention is upon him, his voice returns to quiet. "Hey, ahh... yeah. I know. It hurts. And you can't do anything about it. I... I couldn't either. Right..? I know that... I don't try to think all that much all that often, but that doesn't mean... I don't get it. I had wants too. I had things that I thought were the best for me. But I guess I was wrong, because in the end she found someone else after me, and then someone else after that. She's climbing stairs into a perfect future..."

His eyes fall off into the foggy plains ahead. The clouds spread; a piece of reality shines through, somewhere far below, and there she is, tiny green-scaled girl with her arms around the furry dark timburr who towers both over her and all else.

"And that means that _that_ perfect future wasn't meant for me. So... I'm gonna find my own. I don't know any big answers; I don't even know the big questions you were asking. I just don't... work like that. I kind of think, but I mostly _do._ So I... can't really talk you out of this, I can't really assure you that this is right, but I think you shouldn't keep taking up little broken pieces of your past, because then you get hurt...

"I like looking at others. And if I like what I see, I like to be around them. Like... you're funny. And I like that. But you're serious too, and I like that too."

There's something precious in the way he speaks. I like it. I-I find myself liking it more than I thought I would. And it's refreshing, to pull back from the screeching inside of me. He's soft. Elijah's soft. My eyes trail his mouth, quiet and closed. The little moue is quavering. His eyes tend to shift, and he moves in place more than I thought he would, and his voice was so... ridiculously soft. He was always too... sweet. In those endearing ways that you expected.

Without warning, the tears finally come. And there I am: sobbing. Right on him, right in front of him, clinging pathetically to his body. I swear, every time I'm around this stupid boy, my emotions heat until I can't stand it anymore, until nothing can.

I hate it. I-I hate it, it hurts so much, it burns.  
But at the same time I can't let go. I-I hate that.

The tremors dissolve into little quivers, and eventually the quivers still as well. And I just stay there, breathing. And then I realize he's breathing too, and I feel it, warm, on my head.

I stay longer than I meant to.

It takes me awhile to realize that my hands are on his chest. By this point it's hard to see, all this sparkling light in my eyes, so I wipe at my eyes and quickly— _quickly—_ pull away. N-No I'm not blushing. I-I-I like girls. M-Mostly.

So I glare at Elijah in his stupid, nice eyes, and I tell him loudly, "Boys are _stuuupid_."

He does this stupid cute Elijah grin, fingers on my forehead. "Well then I guess _you're_ stupid, huh!" And he flicks me, but it's a hesitant flick which makes me laugh and then glare at him, trying not to.

I don't have to listen to what everyone else tells me. I-I have beliefs too, and stuff going on inside of me that they don't even know.

My eyes go to my hands, splayed out in front of me, reaching toward him without daring any near. They shake still, once, again, still, once more. Then my eyes fog over and I look into him. Smiling, gently accepting him. The him who thinks I'm funny.

If Elijah found something happy in his life... then I can find something happy too.

The rest of everything I say spirals off into persiflage, but he's laughing for whatever reason, so that's... nice. I've never heard someone laugh so much about all the nonsense I spew. But I like it. I-I like it a lot more than I thought I could. So I keep talking, and sometimes he'll talk too, in his stupid soft voice, and I'll try not to laugh and my red face doesn't help because then he laughs and it makes me want to join him.

I try not to bump into him again. But he doesn't. So I stop, eventually.

 **Hoo, lots of emotion!**

 **It's kind of funny cuz at first Elijah and Zoey are basically that awkward conversation you have to have with your girlfriend's ex, only you're both dead so are you exes with her or not?**

 **But they learn something else through it.**

 **I like Elijah more than I should**

 **Shadow Snivy on a scale of one to ten how angry does that make you**


	5. Place

**Mmmh... the funny thing about these kindsa stories is that it's... like, it's both a bonus feature for anyone who read the pmd series, but it's also a story in and on its own about Zoey herself... I like that but... I dunno just thinking about how that works in society. I think of _Four_ by Veronica Roth but I don't write like she does... buhh**

 **Also this story is really short... like way shorter than most of my others, haha...**

 **anyways the final chapter!**

Five: Place

I'm not sure when it happens. It all happens so fast... but at the same time I can't even begin to describe just how "fast" it "happens". I'm not sure if time determines much of anything in this realm... a constant reassurance yet at the same time a weight in the pit of the stomach.

Was time ever real in the first place?

But even so it happens, and when it happens I'm not sure what to think. His scales are green too, and he's a snivy too, and his eyes are brown too, brown like hers are, brown like his were when they were alive, I think. A mustache perches upon his lips, and he is larger. That's different. But I can tell when I meet him, the final bungalow in the corner, that he is the uncle she always told me about.

He watches me warily, then, denoting me as harmless, he is annoyed. A pompous accent, much thicker than hers, comes shouting out at me, his mustache standing up on his lips like an endangered feline: "And exactly _who_ are you again?" Slight scoff. "It's rather trying to keep up with the faces."

They're standing around me. Not all of them have seen him. One or another. He just kind of showed up, asking if _they_ were the result of his niece's influence. What had all happened, because he hasn't seen a bit of it, oh no, not since before her beginning had he been a part of it.

Burr, striding past me, plops a hand on my head and tells him, "Oh, this here, my friend, is Zoey, and she was in a relationship with your niece for awhile." Gerald takes this in, nodding, like he expected her to be a little queer. "She's probably your niece's, er, closest companion, so." Pat-pat on my head.

He and Mina. They met this pompous old fart first. From her side, her sunny yellow hand meets Elijah's head, and then she introduces him too. "But she was with this fellow here first—Elijah. He's a charm. Died because—well, you-know-who was a little... er... jealous?"

A glance toward Burr, who smiles and shrugs his shoulders. Mina scowls in turn. He's not helping.

"Yeah!" I randomly burst in. "And that's Roland, and that's F, and E's her boyfriend and and Frigid Outspring! She's a turd but she also isn't. Be careful around her if you're fragile, mister old snivy dude."

He blinks, disconcerted. "Was that an attempt at a joke?"

But Elijah gives me this affectionate Elijah glance so my pride isn't completely shown up.

It's almost all of us. Pretty much. Ember squeezes in next to me, stating his name loudly, but Gaurdio wasn't very interested so he himself is off doing his own thing. Though Burr promised to tell him everything word-for-word, so.

Clearing into his little bungalow, built in with a table in the middle, just because, we swarm about that space. Gerald watches with the weirdest bemused look on his face. It makes me wonder if he ever thought his niece would ever summon such a crowd: his tiny, sickly-looking niece with a heart that must contribute for all of her body weight.

It's a story that we tell him. Because he didn't know any of it. He died, he explains awkwardly, before it all began. He's the reason it all began in the first place, because it kept her from being penned to his single lifestyle in his single way of moving. So thus she expanded and started it all. I end up talking a lot, the most—by a good margin—because I was there for the majority of what went on. I tell this impassioned old fart about the wonderful girl he raised, and how I was the first thing she saw when her life started, and how I decided by some dare my friend got into my head to change the world.

And from me it went to Burr, the baton of the story. So he explains in great detail himself, and the boy he considers his brother, the boy who was really a monster who tried to kill us and succeeded in killing him. And his voice is conviction, is heart, is meaning, is hope. Love. Elijah adds in little bits about he and his best friend, his currently very alive best friend. And others, too. Living others.

Ember doesn't come in until later. Gerald knew a little about him through some unconventional means—psychic pansears get around—and he does question why the blue one isn't with him. Because well... his girlfriend's still alive. And he's not. And it's after him that F begins to pave her way, her long and ridiculous tale, E adding in his little tidbits, and Roland with his past and his siblings and his life as it came to know us... and Frigid Outspring. She died by a seed that sprouted into a tree of futility. But she's alright, she gets it.

Existence and hope, and worth and trust, and a whole lot of effort, weave into this story. Everyone pitches in their parts, and it's tiring just talking about it, because it takes so long and there's so many pieces of it, some pieces I hadn't even known about until this very moment.

It ends with me, too. Because, I realize, I was the last one. They all died before me. And they showed up after me. So there I am, orchestrating down to the very last second as I step in place and let that monster shred my neck open and I set the monster who found the light in my girl free. I don't... particularly like saying it. But I do. I want him to know, I think he should.

He listens to all of this silently. Just a nod, here or there, not a single word raised in thought until it's all over. And then he's still silent. So, taking in a breath, Burr asks him, "Hey, dude, are you proud of her?"

The auburn eyes darken, like leaves on trees before the end of days, then into the soft and dark sap of syrup in winter. There is a brightness, a musky scent of spring, of fresh dirt and plants growing inside of it, and the shine of a sunflower at the peak of its glory.

"No." Casually. Burr's mouth kind of flops open. "I needn't her to raise a finger for me to be proud."

I nod slowly, and swallow, and wipe at my stupid, sparkling eyes.

Elijah takes the moment to step—accidentally—on my foot. The crying, squeaking, half-wheeze-laugh noise that comes out of me gets the guilt in his gaze, but it also makes him smile.

I shove against him. It's so warm.

Burr's hand never fully left my head. Ember's smirking at the cliché ingenuity of this old man. Watching us, eyes big and gentle, Frigid Outspring is without power to comment. Roland stays in the back with his arms crossed, smiling peacefully, contented, as the chatting legends beside him grow with intensity.

In the end I decide I like Gerald. He's a pretty decent old fart. And nobody thinks it's funny but Elijah, but I don't even care. M-Mostly.

He understands. The struggle, the failure, the glory.

Sometime later, I find him out by the edge of the skies. He's watching—he's always watching—and this time it's a stream. A tiny stream, like the fountain, only it spills out from the sky and goes down, down, down toward reality. It reminds me of a waterfall, or a well. When I tell him this, the old man nods, slowly, mustache thick about his lip. "That's the idea." He tells me that the woman he had the indecency to fall in love with taught him that trick. Her name is Stella, he says, and Stella is a control freak, and understandably so with the power she holds.

But—oh, shame on him he loves her.

So we stand there, watching the water fall together.

I ask him if it hurts sometimes. He's nodding. Yeah. It hurts a lot of the time, but it's alright too. Which reminds me of Elijah. I like Elijahs.

We talk about her too. He misses her. He misses a lot of things, but mostly his poor, stupid, periodically terrified niece. She was precious in that way. I tell her she's changed a lot, but I still think she's precious too.

It's nice. These little things. I realize that he holds them too, just like her.

That my darling wasn't the only one to hold them. That there's more than her, and there's more than that pain. And that helps me a little bit.

A lot of things help. And things help with a lot.

 **I'm going to say it right now to make it obvious  
I ship Zoey and Elijah a lot like they're canon alright**

 **and that's... almost it I guess? Heh... man I love these characters more than I should TTwTT All of them... hahaha...**


End file.
